My Heart is Full

This Thanksgiving means more to me than any other.  If you have been following my story on social media and the blog, you may know that in April of 2021, I was diagnosed with breast cancer.  I had a bilateral mastectomy in May and started chemo late August.  

As I write this newsletter, my heart is full.  I completed my last round of chemo on October 28th.  After three weeks of my normal post-chemo symptoms (i.e. fatigue, flu-like aches, low-grade fever, and pains, as well as the strangest metallic taste in my mouth), I can honestly—hopefully—and humbly say, I’ve come through the worst of it.  And I feel strong. 

If you’ve experienced cancer, you know there is no easy way around it.  The word alone sends a chill of fear through my bones.  Thankfully, mine was stage one, and despite having the genetic mutation that creates higher risk of having it later in life, the combination of surgery, chemotherapy, and ongoing medication will knock it out.  

Sure, Thanksgiving is all about gratitude—a day we celebrate the posture of a thankful heart—and a meal of some sort to share with those we love.  What I’m learning though is that it’s too little too late if we rely on a national holiday to remind us of what we’re grateful for.  I pray a day doesn’t go by that I forget to actively, out loud, thank God for walking me through every step of my cancer journey.   

I believe something has to happen in order for us to stay connected to a gratitude practice—presence.  Some people interchange the words presence and mindfulness.  Bringing our thoughts and inner dialog down low as we connect to the simplicity of the moment. 

However, I actually like how some eastern traditions refer to mindfulness as “heartfulness” instead.   After all, our emotions help to integrate our brains and bodies as humans.  

To me, this looks like feeling on a heart-level, the beauty and wonder of the present moment.  Bringing our whole heart into our moment-to-moment experience.  From this place, the clanking noise starts to flatline and our willingness and curiosity build.  From this place we let go of scarcity and ego and receive love and openness.  

If cancer has taught me anything, it is that life is too short to be bound by fear—too short for playing small.  You and I have a calling, and if we will say yes to that calling, we can illuminate the way of hope for a hungry and hurting world.  Let’s say “yes” together.  

Happiest of Thanksgivings, from my table to yours.